


Magnetic (sfw)

by maybeeatspaghetti



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Homeless Whizzer, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marvin is not a complete asshole, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of sex work, Mentions of survival sex, he has a compassionate size
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeeatspaghetti/pseuds/maybeeatspaghetti
Summary: This version of Magnetic is NOT EXPLICIT.A stranger hugs Marvin, saying he's being followed and needs Marvin to pretend they know each other. It doesn't turn out the way Marvin expects. Things never do when Whizzer Brown is involved.________A meeting fic requested by an anon on Tumblr. It was also requested that there be a sfw version as well as a nsfw version.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	Magnetic (sfw)

Marvin was looking forward to a dull, lonely lunch break on Tuesday, just like every other workday had been for the past ten years. He left his desk precisely at eleven-fifty-three, made it out of his building by eleven-fifty-six, and was standing in front of a restaurant around the corner by twelve. He studied the menu hung in the window, wondering whether he really wanted to eat here today—it was more expensive than the cafe down the street, but the cafe down the street’s sandwiches were usually limp and unappetizing unless you were _really_ hungry—and Marvin was debating whether he was really even hungry at all when a stranger walked straight into him.

Well, it wasn’t exactly that. A stranger _had_ walked into him, but he was… he was _hugging_ Marvin. Tightly. 

“Please pretend you know me,” the man murmured into Marvin’s ear. “I’m being followed. The man with jeans and the black and white sweatshirt.”

Marvin glanced over his shoulder and saw the man in question leaning up against a wall a couple doors down, a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking for all the world like he was just out taking a quick break from work. The man kept flicking his eyes toward Marvin and the stranger that was currently clinging to him, and Marvin made a snap decision. 

He pulled out of the hug and kept a firm grip on the stranger’s elbow as he said, loud enough for his voice to carry, “Hey, glad you could make it. A few minutes late, but I’ll forgive you.” And he ushered the stranger inside the restaurant.

“Table for two,” he said, and they were shown a table toward the back. “Are you alright?” he asked as they were seated.

“Yeah. Bit freaked, though. That guy’s been following me for almost ten blocks. Hey, do you mind if we switch? I’d rather face the door, if you don’t mind.”

Marvin stood. “Sure, yeah.” They switched places. “Do you know him?” Marvin asked, glancing over his shoulder out the window.

The stranger shook his head. “No. He whistled at me, then the next thing I knew he was trailing me.”

Marvin reached his hand across the table. “Marvin,” he said.

The stranger clasped his hand, sturdy and strong. “Whizzer Brown.”

“Nice to meet you, Whizzer Brown.” Marvin pushed a menu across the table. “You hungry?”

Whizzer flashed a smile, a glint in his eye. “Why? You paying?”

Marvin shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re paying…” He picked up the menu. 

Marvin narrowed his eyes at him across the table. “Alright, what’s your deal?”

Whizzer looked up. “What?”

“Are you really being followed or do you just set this all up and see how many people will buy you food?”

The glint in Whizzer’s eye dimmed and he looked suddenly small and helpless. The menu slipped out of his hand and fell to the table. “I, uh…” 

Maybe it was Marvin’s compassionate side, or maybe it was the fact that this man sitting across from him was perhaps the most effortlessly handsome man Marvin had ever laid eyes on, but he picked the menu up and held it out. Now that he was really getting a good look at him, he noticed Whizzer was thin and gaunt. “Look, if you’re hungry, I’ll buy you something. It’s not a big deal.”

Whizzer reached for the menu but Marvin wouldn’t let go.

“Is Whizzer your real name?”

Whizzer nodded slowly. “A nickname. But no one calls me anything else.”

Marvin relinquished his hold on the menu and Whizzer opened it carefully.

“Alright, Whizzer. Order whatever you want, just as long as it’s not the entire menu.”

Whizzer chuckled and Marvin decided right then and there that he wanted to hear that sound again. Marvin focused his eyes on his menu, pretending to read it; he’d come here a couple times in the past and knew what he wanted, but he kept up the guise of looking it over to give himself space to think. He had no idea what he was doing—what he was getting into—he was _married_ , for god’s sake, but the lure of this man was impossible to resist. Well, he had no idea this man was even… inclined that way at all. But he could make a good guess, if the fact that his story—made up as it was—didn’t include any disgust that it had been a _man_ whistling at him on the street. And the way he’d hugged him… 

Marvin tried to be rational. Whizzer was obviously a good actor, as he’d managed to solidly convince Marvin he was being followed, so it was entirely possible that he was just playing into what Marvin wanted to see, although Marvin had said he’d buy him food regardless. Marvin reminded himself that Whizzer was a stranger, a stranger who had tried to con him into buying him lunch, which wasn’t a terrible crime, really, if he truly was hungry, but he was a stranger all the same, and Marvin knew absolutely nothing about him. 

When he looked up, Whizzer was staring at him.

“Did you pick something?”

“I’m assuming _you_ did, since you’ve been staring at the same spot for the last few minutes.”

Marvin gave him what he hoped was a scathing look and flagged down the server to order. Once the server had whisked away their menus, Marvin clasped his hands on the table in front of him and stared Whizzer down. Whizzer shifted in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable under Marvin’s scrutinizing gaze.

“When was the last time you ate?” Marvin asked.

“Yesterday.”

Something flickered behind Whizzer’s eyes and Marvin decided not to press him.

“How often does this work?”

“Does what work?”

“This. Your ‘I’m being followed’ thing.”

“It works enough that I keep doing it.”

“How do you pick people to dupe?”

“Why are you interested?”

“Just curious.”

“Uh… Men, always. Who are alone and look like they’re going to go in. Men who look like they could afford it. Men who… uh…” His eyes flicked down to Marvin’s left hand and then away quickly, though it didn’t escape Marvin’s notice. He snapped his mouth shut and took a sip of his water.

Marvin curled his hand in a fist, feeling his wedding ring constrict his finger. Men who… what? 

“I’ll be back in a minute. Restroom.” Whizzer slid out of his chair and disappeared.

Marvin rubbed his forehead. He was sure Whizzer had been planning on saying men who had _inclinations_ toward other men, but probably realized he’d made a mistake when he saw the ring. Except… 

Whizzer wasn’t exactly _wrong_. Marvin certainly felt the pull of a handsome man more strongly than anything he’d ever felt for a woman, and he was equal parts thrilled and afraid that Whizzer had been able to recognize it in him so easily. He fiddled with his ring for a moment, spinning it on his finger, before twisting it off and looking at his hand without it. The skin was paler and slightly dented, an imprint of the ring he’d worn for so many years. He slipped it back on. Taking it off scared him; he’d been wearing it so long, it was comforting now. A wedding band—a wife, a marriage—meant security. He could handle his feelings toward men if he had security, and he’d only ever acted on them once…

Whizzer slid into his seat just as their food arrived. He was reserved while he ate, though his hands were trembling as he lifted the food to his mouth, and Marvin stared at him, enraptured. He was unquestionably handsome, and Marvin studied the lines etched into his skin around his eyes and the curve of his lips. He knew he was pushing the boundaries for what was appropriate, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Whizzer said finally, and Marvin jumped and looked down at his plate, guilty at being caught.

“Sorry. Just trying to figure you out.” That was partly true. Part curiosity, part enchantment.

“I don’t need you or anybody ‘figuring me out,’” Whizzer said, voice sharp. 

“No, of course not. You’re just a man who cons people into buying you food. Nothing much to figure out about you.”

Whizzer’s eyes were steely. “I don’t need your judgements.”

“That wasn’t a judgement. That’s all I know about you. You passed plenty of judgements on me when you approached me on the street.”

“Was I wrong?” Whizzer’s eyes were dark, challenging.

Marvin stared back, a charged silence between them. “No.”

Whizzer looked down at Marvin’s wedding ring and back up. He inclined his head, a salacious tilt, smug, then went back to eating. Marvin curled his hand in a fist again. The ring felt painfully obvious—bulky, heavy. Something about Whizzer made him incredibly conscious of the 14 karat gold band on his finger. He’d never wanted to take it off so much as he did right now, though he knew he’d feel naked without it. It was a shield of sorts. He’d never thought about it much, but it kept women from hitting on him. But men… It didn’t happen often, but he always felt a singular thrill when men acknowledged the ring and disregarded it to look at him the way Whizzer had just done. 

“So,” Marvin said, and Whizzer looked up. “Tell me about yourself. If you don’t want my judgements, tell me about yourself so I don’t have to make them.”

“I’m thirty,” Whizzer began. “I—”

“Thirty,” Marvin interrupted, dubious.

Whizzer huffed. “Thirty-three.” He fixed Marvin with a withering look. “I made a mistake with you.”

“Did you,” Marvin said, handing a packet of crackers across the table, which Whizzer pocketed. “I bought you lunch. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“You weren’t supposed to find me out.”

“I bought you lunch anyway. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

“I’d bite other parts of you. If you wanted.”

“Ah, I see,” Marvin said, leaning back in his chair. “I see.”

Whizzer fixed him with a calculating gaze. “You see what?”

“You proposition these men so they feel they’re getting something in return.”

“That’s insensitive of you.”

“Am I wrong?” Marvin asked, echoing Whizzer’s challenge from earlier.

Another charged silence unfolded between them. “No.”

“Well, you can forget it with me. I’m not interested.”

“Aren’t you.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re the first.”

“I’m married.”

“Not the first.”

“Aren’t I.”

“Nope.”

The server reappeared to whisk their cleared plates away and Marvin tossed the dessert menu across the table. “Pick.”

“What if I don’t want dessert?”

Marvin shrugged and reached across the table to take it back. “Then I’d say that’s too bad, because this place makes a great chocolate ganache cake.”

Whizzer stilled his hand. “I never said I didn’t want it.”

Marvin’s hand was burning where Whizzer was touching him. He slackened his grip on the dessert menu and Whizzer tugged it out of his hand.

“What time do you have to be back at work?” Whizzer asked, eyes flitting across the menu. “I’m assuming—” He looked Marvin over quickly before focusing back on the menu. “—you’re on your lunch break.”

“One-thirty.”

Whizzer hummed. He snapped the menu shut and handed it to Marvin. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Chocolate ganache cake, then.”

“Yeah.”

When their dessert came, Whizzer was quieter, more reserved. He didn’t crack any jokes or needle Marvin about anything else until they had finished.

“You may not have good taste in clothes, but I’ll hand it to you for your taste in dessert.”

“I— What?” Marvin looked down at himself. “This shows nothing about my taste in clothes. I wear this to _work_.”

“Yeah, and if you dress this shabbily to work, then I have low hopes for what you wear outside of work.”

Marvin sputtered. “This is not _shabby_.”

“It is. Your tie is picked, your jacket hasn’t been ironed, and I’m guessing your pants haven’t been either. From what I can see of the shirt, the pattern doesn’t go with the jacket. And—” Whizzer leaned around the table to look at his feet. “—your shoes are scuffed.”

Marvin huffed. “When I offered to buy you lunch, I wasn’t expecting everything about me to be criticized in return. Some thanks.”

“I offered to do something else but you declined.”

“Whizzer, that’s enough. Stop with that.”

“Fine, fine. I just don’t feel right.”

“Don’t feel right about what? Getting a meal without having to trade sex for it? How often do you have to do that?”

He shrugged, not meeting Marvin’s eyes. “Sometimes.” He thumbed at the tablecloth. “More often than not,” he amended in the wake of Marvin’s silence.

“Come back tomorrow,” Marvin said as he waved down the server for the bill. 

“Why?”

“Have lunch with me again.”

“But I— What am I supposed to give you back?”

The server handed Marvin the bill and he stuffed a couple twenties in the fold and told the server to keep the change. He turned back to Whizzer.

“I’ve eaten lunch alone almost every workday for ten years. I know we’ve just met but I like you. Not like _that_ ,” he added dryly when Whizzer sent him a look. But a niggling in the back of his mind suggested he might. “Your company’s repayment enough.” He shrugged and checked his watch. “I’ve got to head back to work.”

He stood. Whizzer did the same, and they stepped out of the restaurant and back onto the street. A breeze swept down the street and caught the undersides of Marvin’s jacket, making it flap and puff around him. They faced each other until the wind died down, reluctant to leave.

“Thank you,” Whizzer said, and his voice was overflowing with sincerity. 

“You’re welcome. I’m just— I’ll be here tomorrow and I’ll buy you lunch again if you want. But you don’t have to come back if you don’t want to. I’m just offering. It’s on the table if you want it.”

Whizzer swallowed and nodded. “Um… thank you for the offer. I’ll consider it.”

Marvin extended his hand. Whizzer took it and Marvin’s fingers tingled.

“It was good to meet you, Whizzer Brown,” Marvin said, and then he let go, took a step back, turned, and left, not exactly wanting to leave but needing to if he was going to return to work on time. He felt Whizzer’s eyes on him until he’d turned the corner. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling Whizzer had given him, the way Whizzer’s hand enveloped his—sure and steady—and the way his hand had burned when Whizzer had touched him. Nor could he shake the image of a pair of pretty lips and brown eyes from his mind. It had been years since someone had come along who had so much magnetism, who drew Marvin in without even trying. The last man like this, Marvin hadn’t been able to resist, and a night of drinking had turned into something else. It had ended badly, and Marvin had resolved to never stray beyond his marriage again, as disappointing and constricting as it was.

Whizzer was… alluring. Marvin couldn’t get him out of his head all the rest of the day, and as he was climbing into bed, he wondered where Whizzer was, and what he was doing, and whether he had been able to have dinner that evening. He fell asleep, the memory of Whizzer floating behind his eyelids, a warm feeling inside him.

*

Whizzer was leaning against the wall outside the restaurant when Marvin showed up the next day. Marvin tried to stifle a grin. “Long time no see.”

Whizzer’s lips quirked in a smile. “Hey.” He looked Marvin over and Marvin squirmed under his gaze, though it was titillating to be observed, studied, examined by someone like Whizzer. “Don’t tell me you ironed your jacket just for me.”

Marvin had. He’d ironed it out and Trina had watched him, bewildered, as he threw out a flimsy excuse about the CEO stopping by for an office visit sometime during the day so he needed to look his best. He’d done it for Whizzer, a man he hardly knew, a man with whom his first interaction had been a lie—and yet… he couldn’t help but feel the need to impress him.

“You think that, and I’ll think you showed up again because I’m good company, and we’ll say no more about it.”

Whizzer laughed. Marvin preened. He liked making Whizzer laugh. “Well—”

“Ah-ah. Say no more about it.”

Whizzer shrugged and Marvin gestured and they went in. During lunch, Whizzer was all smiles and less on edge, as he’d been the previous day. He was still flirtatious, but not overly so, and he was talkative, which Marvin liked. Whizzer kept a lot close to his chest, but he let Marvin in a few steps when he told him he was sleeping in his car in Central Park and had moved to New York City fourteen years ago. From where he didn’t say, and he didn’t let on how long he’d been living out of his car. But it was a start in getting to know a little more about him.

As they left the restaurant, Marvin said, “Same time tomorrow?” and Whizzer pulled him in unexpectedly and hugged him.

“Oh…” Marvin said, tentatively putting his arms around him. He hadn’t expected to ever be this close to Whizzer again. 

“Thank you,” Whizzer said quietly. 

“You’re welcome,” Marvin said—calmly, he hoped. His insides were going haywire at Whizzer’s closeness.

Whizzer let him go and it took all his power not to sway on his feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Whizzer said, and stepped back and away, his hand raised in a little wave.

As if on autopilot, Marvin waved back, and Whizzer smiled, turned, and disappeared into an alley. Whizzer had crawled under Marvin’s skin so easily, and Marvin felt like he probably should have been disconcerted, but he liked spending his lunches with Whizzer. 

He thought about Whizzer a lot. Too much, probably. He thought about Whizzer more than he knew he should, but there was something so damn alluring about him that kept Marvin’s thoughts returning to him.

*

It became routine. Every day at lunch, Marvin and Whizzer would meet up at that restaurant—or, once they’d gotten sick of the menu options there, they’d started visiting a restaurant a couple doors down—and Marvin would buy lunch for them both. They’d talk about nothing of real consequence, and Marvin would admire Whizzer from across the table, and Whizzer would, every once in a while, fix him with a long, puzzled look, as though still in doubt about Marvin’s motives for meeting up with him every day. Marvin wanted to see Whizzer more often, but didn’t want to send the wrong message by asking Whizzer to spend more time with him in exchange for food, so he held his tongue and contented himself with enjoying Whizzer’s company for an hour every weekday.

For a couple days one week, Whizzer didn’t show, and Marvin was disappointed and ate alone. He tried to remind himself that it was just like it used to be—he ate lunch alone for ten years, so it shouldn’t have been so jarring to have an empty seat across from him—but he found he desperately missed Whizzer’s company. The days Whizzer wasn’t there, his lunch breaks were short, as he had no reason to stick around for his full hour.

Whizzer showed up like usual later in the week, as though he hadn’t been gone at all, and Marvin asked where he’d been, just trying to make conversation, but Whizzer danced around the question and didn’t actually answer, Marvin realized later. But even if Whizzer was evasive—he was allowed to be, Marvin reasoned, as it was his life and Marvin wasn’t entitled to the details—he was just pleased to have Whizzer back at lunch again.

About a month and a half after meeting, Marvin bit the bullet and invited Whizzer to come over to his apartment on a Thursday evening—the night his wife went to play bridge with her friends. Whizzer looked at him curiously, but then his face was wiped clean of that curious expression and something hardened behind his eyes and he said sure. 

Marvin showed Whizzer around the apartment when he got there that evening, skimming over the bedrooms, of course, so as not to imply that’s what he wanted from Whizzer. Whizzer showed polite interest in everything, and Marvin wondered whether he was revealing too much. Whizzer was so carefully guarded about himself and his life that they may have been eating lunch together for over a month, but Whizzer was essentially still a stranger. Marvin had grown to both trust and distrust him, but it was hard not to trust him because he liked him so much, but he knew he could potentially be stepping into dangerous territory if he told Whizzer too much too quickly. If word got out in his office that he had befriended a homeless man who had sex with men as “payment” for meals, Marvin would become the laughingstock of the company. He was toeing a thin line. 

Marvin, who had been to the kitchen for a glass of water, had gotten Whizzer one, too, although he was busy looking at Marvin and his wife’s family photos and didn’t notice Marvin holding it out to him. Or maybe he noticed and just didn’t want to take it, so Marvin held both glasses close to his chest as he watched Whizzer. He desperately wanted to get to know Whizzer better, so in an attempt to get him to open up about himself, he asked where he grew up while he was studying the photographs of Marvin as a child on the sideboard in the hall. 

“Ohio,” Whizzer said absentmindedly, and then stiffened. He looked up at Marvin hesitantly, as though Marvin could somehow hurt him with that information. He’d slipped up; the expression on his face made that very clear. He looked small and vulnerable—a stark contrast to the suave and snarky front he presented most of the time.

“I’ve never been to Ohio,” Marvin said, pretending not to notice Whizzer’s reaction. “Born and raised here. Although I’ve told you that before.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Whizzer relax, but only slightly. Whizzer nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been out to California but nowhere in between.”

“Must be nice, out in California. Warm.”

“It was.”

“I’d like to go there. If I could. Sometime.”

The softness of his voice surprised Marvin. It felt like he was letting his guard down on purpose—just once—to wish for something. Marvin felt a tug on his heart. He wanted to help Whizzer if he could. Whizzer wanted to go to California and Marvin wanted to help him get there.

As quickly as Whizzer had laid aside his facade, it was put back in place. His waspish tongue returned. “Your wife’s pretty,” he said, picking up a framed portrait of her. “I can see why a man would like her. But my question is—what does she see in you?”

Marvin exhaled sharply. The criticism… he wasn’t prepared for that. “I don’t know, Whizzer. What do we ever see in anybody we fall in love with?”

“Well,” Whizzer said, pulling the picture down and breezing into the living room, “I can see why someone would fall in love with me.” He sidled in front of the mirror and looked at himself. “I’m pretty. Prettier than your wife.”

Marvin felt like the floor had tilted suddenly. 

“Plenty of people could fall in love with me,” he continued, pushing and pinching and prodding at his cheeks.

“Has anyone ever fallen in love with you?” Marvin couldn’t help asking. He sat down on the couch and put the glasses on the coffee table.

“Sure.” Whizzer was flippant, unconcerned. “Plenty of guys see a pretty face and think they’re in love. Maybe some of them are. I sure don’t ask them to fall in love with me.”

“You think highly of yourself.”

Whizzer fixed him with a stare in the mirror. “I have to. Where is your wife, by the way?”

“Out. She has a bridge group once a week on Thursday nights.”

Whizzer fluffed his hair in the mirror on the wall before sitting down across from Marvin. Marvin pushed one of the glasses of water across the coffee table toward him. Whizzer picked it up with a delicate hand and took a sip. Marvin watched his fingers flex and curl around the glass much longer than was probably appropriate, and tore his eyes away to find Whizzer smirking at him.

“How long’s your wife usually gone?” Whizzer asked.

“A few hours. Why?”

Whizzer shrugged, and then his eyes were darting around the room, and Marvin just had this _feeling_ that he was scrutinizing the decor, judging Marvin’s taste—well, his wife’s taste—in decoration. 

“Do you want something to eat? Dinner, maybe? My wife—she made a butternut squash and bacon quiche if you’re hungry.”

Whizzer leaned forward in the chair. He hummed. “Not really hungry at the moment.” He licked his lips. “Maybe later.”

They fell into an easy conversation, but Whizzer seemed fixated on Marvin’s wedding ring most of the time they were talking—Marvin kept catching him staring at it, or messing with his own left ring finger—and it made Marvin incredibly self-conscious, though he tried to ignore the fact that he could very much feel it on his finger, just like back when he’d first met him. There was just something about Whizzer that made him want to lose the ring.

“Can I…” Whizzer was staring at the ring again. “Can I see that?”

“See what?”

“The ring.”

“You want to see my wedding ring.”

“Yes.”

Uncertain, Marvin held his hand out, palm down. Whizzer looked at it with an odd sort of expression on his face, then reached out with both hands and took Marvin’s hand in his. Whizzer’s hands were soft—too soft—and warm. 

“What are you doing?” he managed to whisper.

Whizzer held Marvin’s hand up so light glinted off the ring. He touched it.

“Can I take it off?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Marvin said, and Whizzer tugged it off gently. Marvin’s hand landed on the coffee table.  
Even though he knew it was coming, fear shot through him—he hadn’t taken his ring off since… since that one night that had definitely been a mistake, looking back—and he felt exposed without it. 

Whizzer held it up and turned it so the light glinted off it. “I’ll never get married. I’ll never get this, I’ll never—” 

“Don’t say that,” Marvin said.

Whizzer looked at him. “Why not? It’s true.”

“A wedding ring doesn’t mean you can’t commit to someone for the rest of your life. You don’t have to get married to prove you love someone.”

“Is that what you did? Get married to _prove_ you loved your wife? Who were you trying to convince it was true?”

Marvin’s heart dropped to his stomach. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice hushed, suddenly cold.

“No, I don’t. I would never marry a woman.”

“Stop it. Whizzer, just stop it. You don’t— You have no idea.”

“What happened?”

“Stop it,” Marvin said, a sharp edge to his voice.

“Did she get pregnant?”

“Stop. I said stop. Just stop.” He wasn’t ready to have this conversation with Whizzer. Whizzer was sharp, Whizzer was crass. Whizzer wouldn’t understand.

Whizzer bit his lip, then looked back at the ring, turning it so the light reflected off it. “Sorry. Not my place,” he said, and Marvin knew he had gotten what he was looking for. Whizzer held up the ring. “Can I try it on?”

Marvin’s stomach churned. He couldn’t say no, but couldn’t speak. He inclined his head and Whizzer slipped it on his left ring finger. It was a tight fit, but it _fit_ , and Marvin felt like he was going to pass out. Nobody else had ever worn it before—it was such a personal thing, a wedding ring—and he had just let Whizzer remove it and put it on his own finger like it was nothing. Was marriage really reduced to a little gold band? Marvin wondered. Off his finger, it seemed so insignificant, so easy to disregard, so easy to lose.

Whizzer stared at the ring on his finger, touching it, twisting it. “It’s…”

He put his hand on top of Marvin’s. The ring was cold against Marvin’s fingers, and a gut-wrenching thought flashed through his mind… wouldn’t it be wonderful if Whizzer was his? If the ring he was wearing had been given to him by Marvin? If he was Whizzer’s?

“Marvin,” he murmured. “Do you feel like you belong to someone when you wear this?”

Marvin swallowed, Whizzer’s hand on his electrifying every nerve ending. “Do you?” was all he could say.

Whizzer closed his eyes and smiled. “I feel like I could.”

Whizzer shifted forward and his other hand reached out to touch Marvin’s waist lightly, beneath his jacket. Marvin shivered. The touch was so much. Whizzer was close—far too close for Marvin’s comfort—and kept getting closer.

“Whizzer…” Marvin said, needing him to step back, step away, stop touching him. He was way too close and Marvin felt like he was drowning. “Back up,” he said, though he wasn’t sure whether he’d actually said it aloud or just thought it.

Whizzer whispered, “It’s okay,” and his lips met the corner of Marvin’s mouth. 

Marvin jerked away, breath coming in quick gasps. He couldn’t control it; he was in over his head. “I can’t— I don’t want— I can’t do this—” 

He bolted to the bathroom and locked himself in. He crouched down on the floor, head between his knees, lips tingling. What had he just done? As much as he wanted to, after how his last dalliance had ended, he didn’t want to risk it again. But Whizzer was different, he told himself. He and Whizzer had been visiting with each other over a matter of weeks. He and his coworker had met only a couple times in passing before that… _night_... and knew nothing about each other, which Marvin was sure worked for a lot of people just fine, but they’d had an explosive argument afterwards; one thing led to another and his coworker threatened to tell everyone in the office if Marvin didn’t find a new job. Marvin, terrified word would get around to Trina, resigned and did just that, and resolved never to have a fling beyond his marriage again. And so far, he’d been doing well. He’d had a lapse. That was all this was. A lapse. A one-time thing. Never again.

Whizzer was gone when he finally emerged from the bathroom. Marvin’s wedding ring was in the center of the coffee table, so small and _material_. He picked it up and slipped it back on, feeling sick as he did so. Whizzer had been right. He’d married Trina to prove to himself that he could love her. And he had never been able to.

*

Whizzer never showed up at the restaurant again. Marvin went back every day for three weeks, hoping he’d be there, but he had vanished. Just as quick as he’d been to jump into Marvin’s life, he was gone. Marvin eventually stopped hanging around the restaurant; it was clear Whizzer wanted nothing to do with him. For months, Marvin’s head was full of Whizzer. He couldn’t shake the memory of Whizzer’s eyes, brown and beautiful, sparkling when he laughed, or the way his nose scrunched when he was thinking hard or confused, or even the way his lips moved when he spoke.

He pulled away from his wife, putting distance between them, trying to hold onto the memory of Whizzer more than he was trying to hold onto his marriage, and his marriage crumbled. He felt no real sense of loss. His marriage had been tumultuous. He moved out three months after seeing Whizzer for the last time. He didn’t want his wife. He wanted men. A man. One man. But that man had vanished. He took off his wedding ring and tossed it in the back of a drawer, strangely unwilling to throw it out, but he hoped he’d forget about it eventually.

*

A couple years later, Marvin was still alone. He hadn’t really noticed how alone he actually was until his coworker, who had also divorced his wife around the same time Marvin had, announced to the office that he was engaged with a kid on the way, and Marvin realized two years had passed him by without his notice. The world was moving on without him and he was still stuck in the memory of a man with brown eyes and delicate hands. Nothing had happened in his life since then. He lived alone, he ate alone, he slept alone. He did everything alone. He didn’t want to say he was lonely, but… he was. Very lonely.

Marvin had decided at some point over the last couple years that he would always do his shopping on miserable weather days because he hated shopping and preferred that the weather reflected his mood, so on a bitterly cold and wet December day, he bundled up and went out, on a mission to find a new pair of gloves and a new ceramic mixing bowl, as he’d broken his a couple days prior. The funny thing was that he didn’t even use that mixing bowl very much. He rarely baked, and that was all he’d ever seen his ex-wife use mixing bowls for, but he’d gotten it out of its spot to rearrange the shelf the other day and it had somehow slipped out of his hands and broken into pieces on the tiled floor.

He was standing on the street outside a kitchenware shop, peering in the window and wondering if it was even worth buying a new mixing bowl, since he had no intention of ever using it, when there was a commotion behind him. He turned just in time to see the door of a bakery fly open and a man come barreling out of it and down the street toward him. Another man flew out the door behind him, shouting.

“Hey!” the man yelled, pointing at the man running. “Thief!”

In a burst of courage, Marvin lunged and tackled the man to the ground, pinning him down facefirst. The shopkeeper swooped in and snatched the pastry the man had stolen out of his hand. He clapped Marvin on the shoulder and thanked him before going back in his shop.

“Ah, to be pinned beneath a man,” the man said snidely, and Marvin clambered off. The man rolled over and the breath left Marvin’s lungs and a cold shiver rushed down his spine. 

Whizzer Brown. The man he’d been dreaming about for two years—lying before him on the sidewalk, looking a little worse for wear.

Likewise, when Whizzer saw Marvin, he froze. “Of course it’d be you,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marvin said, peeling off his gloves. His hands were stinging and red from being scraped along the sidewalk as they went down.

“It means…” Whizzer struggled to a sitting position, “The first time we met, I tackled you. My, how the tables have turned.”

Marvin stood and held out his hand to help Whizzer up. Whizzer stared at it for a second too long before taking it and letting Marvin pull him to his feet. He swatted at his jacket, getting the dirt and grime off.

“What are you doing?” Marvin asked.

“What does it look like? Brushing the dirt off _you_ caused.”

“There’s no need to be pissy.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I meant—what are you doing, stealing stuff?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“It matters to me because— because— Are you stealing because you’re hungry?”

“Piss off,” Whizzer spat, pushing Marvin to the side and striding away. 

“No— Whizzer!” Marvin ran after him, worried he’d disappear before he could catch up. 

He caught him just as he was rounding the corner. He slipped his arm into Whizzer’s, interlocking at the elbow, and held on tight in case Whizzer tried to throw him off. Whizzer stopped moving and looked up at the sky.

“Piss off, Marvin.”

“You remember my name.”

“I remember a lot of people’s names. You’re nothing special.”

“I didn’t say I was.”

“Why are you holding my arm?”

“Because I don’t want you to run off.”

“And? What’s the point? What does it matter if I run off or not?”

Marvin started pulling him along. “Let’s go have lunch.”

Whizzer was much taller and stronger and could have twisted out of Marvin’s grasp in an instant if he wanted to, but he let Marvin pull him into a cafe halfway down the block.

Marvin released his arm and waved at the counter. “Pick whatever you want. You know the drill. We’ve done this before.”

“Why are you buying me food?” He fixed Marvin with an icy gaze, which Marvin returned in kind in lieu of any kind of answer. Whizzer turned to the counter and ordered a sandwich. He turned back to Marvin. “Happy?”

“Very.” 

Whizzer stalked off to sit at a corner table and Marvin went to order for himself and pay. He waited around at the counter, chatting with the cashiers and baristas until his order was ready, then went to sit down across from Whizzer. He slid Whizzer’s sandwich across the table and unwrapped his own. Whizzer stared at his food for a moment before looking up at Marvin.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Jesus, Whizzer. You don’t have to sit here with me if you don’t want to. You could walk out of here at any time and I wouldn’t stop you. I’m buying you lunch so you don’t have to steal for it. If you don’t want it, don’t take it.”

Whizzer hesitated a moment before snatching the sandwich off the table. “What do you want from me? I don’t understand.”

“What did I want from you two years ago? Nothing. I liked you. I considered you a friend.”

“But…” Whizzer stared down at his sandwich, hesitant. 

Marvin sighed. “For god’s sake. If I agree to a quickie in the bathroom, will you eat? Is that what it’ll take? Jesus, Whizzer. Just eat the damn sandwich.”

“You’re meaner than you were,” Whizzer said. He unwrapped the sandwich with delicate fingers. “And bolder. Tackling men while your wife’s back is turned.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

Whizzer’s eyes flicked to his bare left ring finger. “The last time we met, you definitely had a wife.”

“Well, maybe I don’t anymore.”

“What happened to you?”

“I grew a pair.” He stared Whizzer down. “I didn’t get meaner. I got more honest.”

Whizzer blinked. “So you’ll be wanting that quickie, then?”

“Just eat.”

Whizzer did, and Marvin was gratified that he didn’t push back again. Whizzer was quiet as he scarfed down the sandwich, and Marvin, who wasn’t really all that hungry, silently held out the other half of his sandwich, which Whizzer devoured as well. 

“How have you been?” Marvin asked finally, as Whizzer finished the extra half Marvin had given him.

“How do you think I’ve been?”

Marvin shrugged. “I’m trying to be polite.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Fine. I won’t be. Are you still sleeping with men to eat?”

Whizzer glared at him. “You sure are eloquent.”

“You don’t need to answer that. You steal now.”

“I don’t steal very much,” Whizzer hissed. “It’s a bit hard to get men to drop their pants in a back alley when it’s thirty fucking degrees and raining out.”

“Okay, I’ll admit what I said was out of line. But how else do I get you to talk to me if I don’t push your buttons?”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Then don’t talk to me.” Marvin stood up. “I’m going. I have things to do. See you around, Whizzer.”

He was halfway down the block when he heard heavy footfalls behind him and a hand grabbed his arm and spun him around. 

“Whizzer,” Marvin said, tugging his arm out of Whizzer’s grasp.

“Do you, uh…” Whizzer paused, breathing heavily. He was pale, almost sickly-looking, in the grey light of the afternoon. “Do you maybe have some spare change you could give me? I’ve almost got enough to book a hotel room for the night and I only need a few more dollars.” He paused, shoulders dropping. “Please?”

Marvin’s heart hurt. Whizzer looked so tired and he couldn’t just leave him out there in the cold with nothing to offer but a sandwich and a parting “see you around.” He took a deep breath and took the plunge. “Do you need somewhere to stay? I have space and you need a place to sleep, shower, eat. You know.”

“Why?”

Marvin sighed, wondering if he would come to regret this, but wanting to help Whizzer if he could. Whizzer still had a hold on him, even after two years. “Look, it’s the middle of December, your coat is thin, your hands are shaking, and you’re hungry and probably need a shower. I could give you a couple dollars but that’ll only give you one night. So are you coming home with me or not?”

Whizzer swallowed and pressed his lips together, eyebrows crinkling. He nodded. 

Whizzer followed Marvin home, Marvin’s shopping trip forgotten, and Marvin directed him to the bathroom, giving him the only clothes that would fit his lanky frame—a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that had been left in Marvin’s car after he gave a coworker a ride to the gym. The coworker never picked up the clothes, and while Marvin had been irritated at having to keep them for so long, waiting for him to stop by and get them, he was glad of it now.

While Whizzer was in the shower, Marvin hurriedly made the guest bedroom presentable. He had never needed to use it, so it had become a storage room, of sorts, and while he trusted Whizzer not to steal from him, he still didn’t trust him completely, so he moved everything valuable out and piled the remaining boxes in a corner, hoping it didn’t look like too much of a dump. He made the bed and cleared off the shelves in the closet and wondered if Whizzer was still living in his car and how much stuff he had that he would want here with him. If he were to stay long-term, that is. Marvin had no idea whether Whizzer would stay or not. Or if he did stay, how long he would stay for. He was predictable and yet wildly unpredictable, and Marvin thought he’d better be prepared for whatever Whizzer ended up doing.

When Whizzer emerged from the bathroom, looking cozy, steam billowing out of the room behind him, Marvin threw his clothes in the washing machine and showed him to the spare bedroom. Whizzer hovered hesitantly in the doorway.

“Can I take a nap?” he asked. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Whizzer started into the room, the tension in his shoulders noticeably ebbing away. 

“Whizzer—” Whizzer turned. “You can stay as long as you’d like. If you want. And as long as you’re here, I won’t ever come in here without asking first. It’s your space now, okay?” 

Whizzer just stared at him. Marvin shrugged and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Several hours later, Whizzer shuffled out, eyes bleary. Marvin was on the couch in the living room, surrounded by files, taking care of a bit of organization for work he hadn’t had the time to complete during the week. 

“Hey,” Marvin said, setting aside a couple files. “You need anything?”

Whizzer shook his head. 

“You sure?”

Whizzer was silent a moment. He licked his lips. “Water. Please.”

Marvin nodded and got up to get him a glass from the kitchen. When he came back, Whizzer was standing in the window, looking out, though he wasn’t really _looking_. Resisting the urge to put his hand on Whizzer’s back, Marvin handed him the glass and he drank.

“If you want something, tell me. And you can go into the kitchen whenever you want and eat or drink anything there. Come—I’ll show you around, get you something to eat.”

Whizzer nodded. “What am I supposed to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Marvin bit his lip, completely at a loss as to what Whizzer was asking. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“You letting me take a shower and sleep. I expect… What do you want from me? In return.”

Marvin shook his head. “Nothing, really. Uh… You can just…” Marvin shrugged. “...be around.”

“Is that a proposition?”

“Whizzer, what— Not everything is a— No. I thought you’d figured that out the first time. I bought you lunch for weeks without wanting or needing you to do anything in return.”

“That’s just— It’s what I expect,” he said, and his voice was softer than Marvin expected, more vulnerable. “You don’t understand. There’s always a catch. No one helps you for free. Sex— It’s my currency. When people feed me, they expect me to ‘pay for it’ or give something back in return for their ‘kindness.’ I never accept things from people I’m not willing to…” Whizzer shook his head and Marvin’s stomach churned at the implication. “Nothing is completely free.”

“Jesus.”

“Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not.”

“So I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Nothing. I want nothing from you. And I promise not to touch you or… imply that I want something like that from you. I don’t. You’re my equal here, okay?”

“I thought… with you not being married anymore, you might want—”

“No. Stop that right there. I don’t want sex. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t expect anything from you. Let’s get you something to eat and then we’ll talk more about this, okay?”

Marvin made Whizzer a sandwich and, even though he himself wasn’t hungry, sat down to eat as well so Whizzer didn’t feel so on the spot as the only one eating. 

“Why did you run off on me that time?” Marvin asked after a moment, desperately curious. Whizzer had kissed him, he had fled the room, and Whizzer had disappeared for good.

“What time?”

Marvin fixed Whizzer with a cool look. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Whizzer sighed. “I ran off on you because…” He sighed again. “I assumed that you inviting me back to your place was to get me in bed, so I was trying to jumpstart it because I had somewhere to be later.”

Marvin stood up suddenly, the chair scraping the floor harshly, and he backed away from Whizzer. “That’s not why I invited you back to my apartment that time and this is _not_ why I invited you to stay here now. I need you to know that. Okay?”

Whizzer pressed his lips together in a thin line. “You can sit down, Marvin. I’m not going to, I don’t know, jump you.”

“Well, you kinda did last time. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

Whizzer put his hands up. “Okay. I know that. You’ve said.”

Marvin sat down carefully and picked up his sandwich again. He didn’t like the jumpiness—the uncertainty between them—but he tried to shake it off. He wanted Whizzer to feel comfortable being there. He wanted Whizzer to not have to walk on eggshells around him all the time, waiting for him to tell him to bend over. It wasn’t going to work like that and it never would.

Marvin should have expected Whizzer to try something, if not that day, but the day after, but it took four days of Whizzer living in Marvin’s spare bedroom (they’d gotten his car and brought it all back to Marvin’s apartment one afternoon) before he tried to kiss him again. Marvin was fixing a squeaky hinge in Whizzer’s bedroom door and Whizzer was trying to help, but Marvin kept asking him to stand a little bit more out of the way. When Marvin was finished, he turned to find Whizzer standing far too close, eyes faintly glazed over, blinking more quickly than usual.

“Whizzer, it’s all good to go—” It was then that he realized Whizzer was leaning in, his lips a milimeter away from Marvin’s… Marvin almost jumped out of his skin and pushed Whizzer away more roughly than he intended. “Don’t!”

Whizzer stood there, looking lost. “I thought— I want to feel useful.”

Marvin dropped what he was working with on the ground. “Whizzer, I don’t know if anyone’s told you this before, but your value doesn’t depend on how much sex you offer or give or… anything. It doesn’t depend on sex at _all_. I’m not measuring your value on whether you offer me sex or not. You shouldn’t have to expect your worth to be measured like that. So—in the kindest way possible—please stop. I keep telling you this because I mean it. I don’t want anything from you.”

Whizzer’s eyes flicked away from him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you for doing what you’ve been taught. Just take a breather; it’s alright. Can I ask how long you’ve had to trade sex for things you needed?”

“Since… A long time.”

“Okay. As long as you’re here, you don’t need to do that. And that’s not to say I’m trying to make you stay. You’re free to leave whenever you want. I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you for staying here. I don’t see you as being lesser than me. We’re on equal footing here. I like having you around. You make it less lonely. And that’s— that’s useful to me. Okay? I don’t expect anything else from you.”

Whizzer nodded. “Okay.” And with that, he went into his bedroom and the door clicked shut—silently. Marvin sighed, looking after him.

*

Marvin hardly saw Whizzer for a while after that. He caught a glimpse of him every once in a while, but Whizzer largely stayed holed up in his room and only came out to eat while Marvin was at work and after he’d gone to bed. Marvin couldn’t make sense of it. Perhaps Whizzer was embarrassed and humiliated by being told to stop trying to do the only thing he knew to do in a situation like this.

Marvin wasn’t sure what to do, so he just gave him space. They coexisted without much interaction with another, though Marvin would slip notes under the door when he was going out outside of his regular work hours or when he’d made dinner or was watching TV in case Whizzer wanted to join him, but he was always met with silence.

Marvin had given Whizzer a key to the apartment with the order that he was _not_ to bring anybody home or lend the key out; Marvin was a little hesitant handing a spare key over, but didn’t want Whizzer to feel that he was being trapped or kept in the apartment. He was free to come and go as he chose, though Marvin asked that if he was going to leave for good, he should lock the door from the outside and leave the key under the piece of carpet in the hall that was peeling up where it met the wall outside Marvin’s door. The longer he didn’t see Whizzer, the more he expected to come home and find that Whizzer had left, but every day, the dirty dishes in the sink had been washed and set out to dry and Whizzer’s bedroom door was closed. And Marvin would slip a note under the door, inviting him to eat dinner with him or watch TV, only to get no response.

Marvin wondered what Whizzer did during the day—whether he left and went out to see people he knew or just to get some exercise, or whether he went out to keep on what he had been doing the first time Marvin met him. He was infinitely curious about Whizzer’s pastimes, and wondered whether he read books or watched TV while Marvin was out—if he even spent much time outside his room at all. The only indications that Whizzer emerged from his room during the day were the washed dishes and the missing food in the fridge. But that was all. The pillows were always arranged on the couch just as Marvin had left them the night before, and nothing was ever disturbed or put out of place while Marvin was at work. He hoped Whizzer wasn’t tiptoeing around the apartment, trying to make it look as though he hadn’t been there, but he had a feeling that’s exactly what Whizzer was doing.

Nearly two weeks after Whizzer had disappeared into his room, Marvin had turned on the radio and was playing chess by himself at the kitchen table when he caught the slightest movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked to the doorway and saw Whizzer standing there. Marvin smiled, relieved to see him, but his smile quickly faded when he realized Whizzer’s face was pallid and sweaty and he had dark bags beneath his eyes. He stood.

“Are you okay?”

Whizzer didn’t answer and Marvin realized Whizzer’s hands were shaking.

“Whizzer— Are you okay? Did you take something?”

“I’m not a druggie,” Whizzer spat with as much vitriol as he could muster.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— My cousin— He— I need to check.”

“I haven’t taken anything,” Whizzer said, voice scratchy. “I’m sick.”

“How long have you been sick?”

“Couple days.” His eyelids started to droop and he leaned heavily against the doorframe, breathing a little more labored and ragged. 

Marvin stood and walked over to him. He reached to feel his forehead but remembered his promise not to touch him and asked if he could. Whizzer nodded and Marvin pressed his hand to Whizzer’s forehead, which was blistering. 

“Jesus. Let me get the thermometer. Sit down.”

Marvin hurriedly looked through the bathroom cabinet, shoving things aside, until he found the thermometer and went back out to Whizzer, who had taken a seat at the table. He was leaning forward, his head in his hands, and Marvin handed him the thermometer, which he stuck in his mouth. His fever registered at just over 103º and Marvin, concerned, handed him a glass of water and two Tylenol, which Whizzer swallowed and drank, but he made faces and tried not to gag as he did.

“It’s disgusting,” he croaked.

“How long have you had a fever?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long have you been hot?”

“Since puberty.”

Marvin choked out a laugh. Whizzer managed a weak smile.

“Jesus. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know. I woke up yesterday feeling like this. But I’ve had a headache and been sore and tired for days.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Whizzer didn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t want… to do something wrong again.”

Marvin put his face in his hands, realizing belatedly that if what Whizzer had was contagious, he’d put his hand on Whizzer’s forehead and touched the thermometer and just put his hands on his face.

“Whizzer… Nothing you’ve done has been _wrong_. I’m not mad at you. Or anything. Is this why you’ve been hiding away? Never mind. That’s not important. What’s important is you’ve been sick for days and probably should go to the doctor.”

Whizzer shook his head quickly. “I can’t— I— No.” He laid his head down in his arms. “I was just seeing if you could give me something, which you have, so thank you.”

“You need to go to the doctor.”

Whizzer shook his head again, though it was much weaker this time.

“You’ve been sick for a while. You could have an ear infection. Or the flu. I’ll skip work tomorrow and take you to my doctor’s office. But only if you want.”

“I can’t… I can’t afford it,” Whizzer mumbled into his arms.

“Whizzer, be honest with me. What else is wrong? Are you downplaying what’s going on to not… I don’t know… burden me? Look, whatever it is, if it’s contagious, I’m probably going to get it anyway.”

Whizzer sighed. “I threw up yesterday afternoon and my chest hurts and my throat hurts.”

“I’ll pay for you to go to the doctor. Just… let me take you, please?”

Whizzer looked up at him, exhausted, eyes glimmering. He finally nodded and Marvin offered to help him walk back to bed, which he accepted. Whizzer was out almost immediately, and Marvin tucked the blankets in at the right angle and left him to sleep, hoping his fever would have broken by the morning. 

Marvin knocked on Whizzer’s door softly in the morning, and Whizzer, weakly, told him to come in. He was sprawled out on the bed, having kicked all the blankets to the end of the bed, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face. His temperature was still as high as it had been the night before, and Marvin helped get Whizzer into a clean shirt and took him to the car.

“I used to feel weird things when I was little when I had really high fevers,” Whizzer mumbled, leaning his head against the side of the car. “I would feel ants crawling all over me. And feel like everything I touched was cold, hard concrete and it would hurt.”

“Are you feeling any of that now?” Marvin asked. 

Whizzer shook his head. “Just feel terrible.”

“It’s good we’re going to the doctor, then.”

Whizzer looked uncomfortable in the doctor’s office waiting room, and Marvin realized it must have been a long time since he’d been in one. When his name was called, he looked at Marvin a little desperately, and he must have hesitated a moment too long, because the nurse approached them and said cheerfully, “It’s alright. Your partner can come back with us if you’re more comfortable having him with you.”

Whizzer grabbed Marvin’s arm and pulled him up with him, and Marvin realized with a jolt that they’d have to pretend they were together now. Whizzer gripped his arm as the nurse took his temperature and sat him on the examination table, asking him specific questions about his current symptoms as well as general questions about his health. Whizzer squirmed when the nurse asked whether he was sexually active and whether his partners were men or women and how many partners he had. Sensing his discomfort, Marvin quietly suggested he leave the room for a moment, but Whizzer told him to stay, so he sat back down and tried not to listen to Whizzer’s answers about his sexual history, trying to give him at least some privacy.

When the doctor came in, he checked Whizzer over, mentioned a couple illnesses he suspected, and then ordered a strep throat test and a blood test, which Whizzer looked very nervous about, so Marvin broke his no touching rule and held Whizzer’s hand—clammy and hot—as his blood was drawn. Whizzer squeezed Marvin’s hand so tightly his fingers turned white but got through it without much trouble, and he was feeling a little weaker as they left, so Marvin let him lean on his shoulder as they went back to the car. Whizzer fell asleep in the car, so instead of waking him, Marvin just drove around the city for an hour and a half, letting him sleep, until lunchtime, when he finally went back to the apartment and had to wake him up. After lunch, Whizzer took another couple Tylenol capsules and went to bed, and Marvin sat around the apartment wondering how Whizzer had so easily worked his way into his life.

The doctor called a couple days later with the results of the blood test. Whizzer came to find Marvin after he got off the phone to tell him he had mono and that the best thing to do was to drink lots of fluids and just wait it out. Marvin heated soup up for him and made him promise to tell him if he was ever feeling ill again. 

Whizzer regained his strength over the next several weeks, and the first time he left the apartment after recovering, he came home with a grin and told Marvin he’d gotten a job as a server at the restaurant the two of them had gone to so often back when they first met, as the owner recognized him, even after two years. Whizzer was ecstatic and Marvin was likewise excited for him.

“It’s the first real job I’ve had in a long time,” Whizzer said, and Marvin promptly went out and bought a cake to celebrate.

Whizzer left the papers he was meant to fill out on the table, half-filled in, and Marvin wasn’t trying to look, but he caught a glimpse of the box that said “date of birth” and snuck a look. He was startled. Whizzer’s birthday was _tomorrow_. And he hadn’t said anything. He was probably trying not to feel like a burden, Marvin thought, but he wasn’t, really. Marvin really liked having him around, and he was good company. For weeks, while Whizzer had been recovering from mono, he had kept apologizing for being sick and taking up Marvin’s time, and for Marvin having to make him food. 

Marvin remembered Whizzer mentioning that he had really loved photography when he was a teenager, and he had such a wistful look in his eyes when he had been talking about it, that Marvin had some idea of what to get him—and he did want to get him something. Marvin slipped a note under Whizzer’s door, saying he was going out, then went searching for a camera he could get Whizzer. He had no idea there were so many _options_ , and with the help of someone who knew much more about cameras than he did, he bought one. That night, after he knew Whizzer had gone to bed, he wrapped it as quietly as he could and left it sitting in the middle of the table for Whizzer to find when he got up.

Marvin woke to a tapping on his bedroom door. He dragged himself out of bed and to the door, his eyes bleary and unfocused. He opened the door to find Whizzer standing there, the wrapped present in his hands, brow furrowed, confused.

“Why does this have my name on it?” Whizzer asked.

Marvin leaned against the doorframe heavily, struggling to stay awake for this conversation.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” he said, voice slow and scratchy. He cleared his throat. “Right?”

“How— How did you know?”

“Wasn’t trying to snoop, I swear,” Marvin said, blinking quickly to keep himself awake. He rubbed at his eyes with his hands. “I saw the, uh, papers you were filling out for your job.” He yawned. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing to himself. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Of course, that wasn’t exactly true. He’d stayed up well past the time he usually went to bed just to put the present on the table, but Whizzer didn’t need to know that. Whizzer was staring helplessly at the present in his hands, clearly unsure what he was supposed to do. Marvin prompted.

“You can open it if you want.”

“Oh…”

“Let me put on a different shirt and I’ll come out to the kitchen, okay?”

Whizzer nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and turned and walked toward the kitchen. Marvin shut the door, threw on a clean t-shirt, brushed his teeth quickly, and went out to where Whizzer was sitting at the table, eyeing the present in front of him with an expression Marvin couldn’t place.

Marvin sent a smile his way and went to make coffee. As it was brewing, he turned to face Whizzer, leaning on the counter. Whizzer was still staring at the present.

“Happy birthday,” Marvin said, shooting him another smile. “Let me see… Uh… You’re thirty… thirty-six today?”

Whizzer nodded, his eyes starting to sparkle. He still looked a tad confused, and even after Marvin had gotten his coffee and sat down across from him, he still hadn’t said anything. 

“You gonna open it?” Marvin said, sipping his coffee. He was tempted to throw in a, “What? You’ve never seen a present before?” but thought better of it before the words could leave his mouth, since it could very well be that it had been a long time since Whizzer had gotten a birthday present.

Whizzer reached for it tentatively and carefully peeled the tape off, apparently trying to keep as much of the paper intact as possible. The paper fell away to reveal the box, and Marvin was suddenly anxious that Whizzer wouldn’t like it or that he’d gotten the wrong camera (not that he even knew what the “right” camera was in the first place). Whizzer put his hands on his cheeks, eyes darting between the box and Marvin. Marvin smiled what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“You said you used to love photography, so…” Marvin trailed off, trying not to be disconcerted by Whizzer’s silence. “I just thought if you were interested in picking it up again—”

“I love it. Thank you.” Whizzer looked up at him, eyes shining, a hopeful, excited expression on his face. 

“You’re welcome,” Marvin said, and gestured to the box. “Open it,” he said, trying to nudge Whizzer into getting it out before he had to go to work.

Whizzer opened the box carefully and lifted out a sleek new camera.

“The guy at the shop said it’s probably really different to the camera you used when you were a teenager, so there might be a learning curve, but I figured you could probably pick it up really quickly if you put your mind to it.”

Whizzer was already fitting the batteries in and flicking the dials. He pointed the camera at Marvin. “Smile.”

Marvin smiled. Whizzer shook his head.

“That’s not a real smile. Come on, Marvin. Smile for me.”

In the end, it was those three little words that did it. Marvin scrunched his nose up and laughed and smiled, smiling for Whizzer, just like he wanted, and there was a click and a flash and when he had blinked away the imprint of the light behind his eyelids, Whizzer was looking at him, a half-smile gracing his lips and the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Marvin realized in that moment that he’d do anything for Whizzer if he asked like that. The thought was beautiful but painful, and Marvin’s smile faded.

“Marvin?” He lifted his eyes to see Whizzer staring at him, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Sorry,” he said, plastering on a smile he hoped Whizzer wouldn’t question. “Thinking about work.” He checked his watch. “I should probably go.” He walked past Whizzer and patted his shoulder as he did. “Happy birthday. I’ll pick up a cake and maybe some ice cream on the way home so we can celebrate properly. If you have any friends you’d like to be with you, you’re welcome to invite them over if you want. Or… you don’t even have to be here if you’d rather not. Either way’s fine.”

Marvin grabbed his things and hurried out the door under the pretense that he was late, though he really wasn’t, and spent the day wondering just what it meant to want to do anything for a person.

When Marvin got home from work, Whizzer was lying face-down on the couch, fast asleep, the camera tucked under his arm. Marvin went to cook dinner, cooking something he’d said he loved the last time Marvin had made it, and he thought some more about how he was prepared to do anything for Whizzer, if only Whizzer would ask. He shook his head. He and Whizzer would never be anything other than they were. They couldn’t be. It was a want he couldn’t have. It wouldn’t be right.

They had dinner together, and then they watched TV for a little while, until Whizzer said he was exhausted, despite having had a nap earlier, and went to bed.

Several days later, at dinner, something was clearly bugging Whizzer. He was pushing food around on his plate with his fork and frowning down at his meal.

“You doing alright?” Marvin asked.

“Can I ask you something?” Whizzer asked, looking up finally.

“Yeah, what about?”

“Your divorce.”

Marvin’s head snapped up at that, not expecting the bluntness.

“What about my divorce?”

“Why’d you get divorced?”

Marvin sighed. “I just couldn’t pretend I was attracted to women anymore.”

Whizzer nodded. “How long were you married?”

“Almost ten years.”

Whizzer sucked in a breath. “That’s a long time.”

“Yeah.”

“When’d you leave her? ‘Cause when we met the first time you were still married. Obviously. That was a talking point. The whole… wedding ring fiasco. You know.” Whizzer’s cheeks were colored.

“Not long after that,” Marvin said, his own cheeks heating faintly as he realized it sounded like his kissing Whizzer was the catalyst for the failure of his marriage. “It was already heading in that direction.”

“So you got divorced. But you live alone.”

Marvin tilted his head, confused. “You live here.”

“No— You know what I meant. You left your wife almost three years ago and you’ve never mentioned anyone else in your life. To me, at least. Surely there’s been someone else since you left your wife.”

Marvin stood, taking his plate to the sink. “There hasn’t been anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, Whizzer.”

“Have you ever _been_ with a man?”

Marvin’s stomach churned. “Once.”

“Oh, really. It was that bad? It didn’t amount to anything?”

“I was still married at the time.”

“Oh.” Whizzer’s voice sobered quickly. “But that was it? You didn’t do it again? You left your wife three years ago and you haven’t—”

“Just— Whizzer, please. It doesn’t really matter much.”

Whizzer shrugged. “Okay.” There was a pause. Marvin washed his plate. “But,” Whizzer said, and Marvin felt sick already, “don’t let me keep you from bringing someone home. I feel like I’m ruining your potential sex life by being here. Unless you get it at work, which… good for you. But really— you can tell me to leave if you need it but aren’t getting it because of me.”

“Whizzer, I’m fine. I don’t need it.”

“Everybody needs it.”

“Then I don’t want it.” Marvin set the plate in the sink, half-washed. He couldn’t stand here and have this conversation with Whizzer. “I can’t— I can’t— Whatever, Whizzer.”

He dried his hands and left the room, unable to calm his pounding heart. He didn’t need Whizzer interrogating him. He went to his room and sat on his bed, feeling light-headed. Of course, there was a reason he hadn’t bothered to find anyone else. He’d been hung up on Whizzer since the day they met, and he had been trying to ignore it, trying to push it aside, trying not to admit it for all these years… Whizzer pointing it out just now had been too much to handle. Some of the things Whizzer said had been partially right. Whizzer _was_ ruining his sex life and had been since the start, since he had no interest in anyone else. Though, and he felt sick admitting it, running into Whizzer that first time had actually improved his sex life with his wife, because he could pretend… 

He felt dirty, knowing he’d thought about Whizzer some of those times. But he’d never… by himself, he’d never thought about Whizzer—that’s where he drew the line. Whizzer deserved his dignity, at least, and Marvin was so afraid of his thoughts turning to Whizzer and not being able to turn away that he hadn’t even… not in a while. Not since the day he’d tackled Whizzer to the ground outside the pastry shop. Not since Whizzer had reentered his life and wreaked havoc on his feelings once again.

He’d never been forced to confront any of this until now. He’d just ignored it—buried it—hoping if he pretended it wasn’t there long enough it would just magically disappear. He had no interest in anybody but Whizzer, and he felt so sick to his stomach because he was trying to protect Whizzer, trying to show him he was worth so much more than his body, and yet Marvin’s feelings were betraying that effort. So he had been trying to hide them.

He needed to get out of his apartment, get away from Whizzer, take a break, cool off, and control himself before coming back. He put on a jacket and hovered at the door, nervous about walking through the apartment and seeing Whizzer. Taking a deep breath, he left his bedroom. Just as he thought he was about to make it through the apartment without running into Whizzer, Whizzer caught him as he was passing the kitchen.

“Marvin! Are you alright? I did the dishes, so don’t worry about them later.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice was harsher than he intended.

“I was already doing mine. I just went ahead and did them all.”

“I thought we agreed to be equal, Whizzer. If this is you trying to repay me somehow, you should stop, okay?” 

“What? I was just—” 

“I’m going out. I’ll be back later.”

“Marvin, I really—”

Marvin walked out and shut the door, cutting Whizzer off. He all but fled the building. He got in his car and drove aimlessly around the city, and it was only when he saw Central Park that he parked and got out. It was chillier than he expected, and his jacket wasn’t thick enough, but he wandered through the paths, shivering, trying to calm down. His heart hurt. But after all he’d done for Whizzer, and after telling him time and time again that he wasn’t going to want anything more than friendship from him, he’d be a horrible person if he told Whizzer he changed his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to Whizzer. He’d be undoing all the work he’d done to make his apartment a safe space for Whizzer. Even thinking about Whizzer in a more-than-platonic way made him feel like he was betraying Whizzer’s trust.

He sat on a park bench until it got too cold and his hands were shaking and almost numb. He went back to his car, fumbled with the keys, then had to sit on his hands for ten minutes before they warmed up enough for him to be able to drive. When he walked into his apartment, it was quiet. Whizzer’s door was closed and there was a note taped to his own bedroom door. 

I’ve gone out for the night to give you some space. I shouldn’t have asked about your divorce or any of it. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry.

Marvin sighed. It wasn’t Whizzer’s fault. Whizzer was curious; he was just trying to connect. Marvin shouldn’t have gotten so worked up over it. And now he’d made Whizzer feel unwelcome, which he felt terrible about. Whizzer was welcome, and it was amazing how quickly Marvin had grown to expect Whizzer’s presence in the apartment, and with the horrible and complete silence in the apartment now, he felt suffocated and upset and angry with himself.

Marvin went to bed early that night, hoping that he could just sleep it off and he’d wake up in the norming and Whizzer would have come home and everything would be as it was. But it was too much to hope for—Whizzer still wasn’t there when he got up and left for work. He still wasn’t back when Marvin got home in the evening, and Marvin was starting to worry that Whizzer wasn’t ever going to come back.

Marvin was playing solitaire when Whizzer came back later that night. He stood awkwardly in the door, looking tired and a bit disheveled.

“Whizzer!” Marvin stood, the chair scraping the floor. He wanted to hug him and took a step toward him before his mind caught up to his feet and stopped him. “Where did you go? You’ve been gone—”

“I stayed in a hotel. Marvin, I’m sorry for prying.”

“It’s okay. I overreacted. You didn’t have to— Whizzer, I— I missed you.” The confession surprised even him. “I’m sorry if you felt like you had to leave. I never wanted— I don’t want you ever to feel like you’re not welcome here. I like having you here. It’s… really empty when you’re not here.”

Whizzer pressed his lips together and walked across the room. He pulled Marvin into a hug and Marvin felt like he was suffocating in Whizzer’s smell. Whizzer’s lips were really close to Marvin’s neck and he said something quietly and Marvin could just barely feel breath hitting his neck, but Marvin couldn’t really hear what he was saying properly and gently ducked out of Whizzer’s hug. He was trying so hard to keep inappropriate thoughts at bay. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, a little more stiffly than his voice had been just moments earlier.

“Marvin, I think you should know—”

“Whizzer, I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. It’s okay. It’s all water under the bridge now.”

Whizzer nodded and swallowed. “Okay. Are you hungry? Have you eaten? I’m going to make something. I can make extra if you want some.”

Marvin shook his head. “I don’t need you to.” He had a nagging suspicion Whizzer was offering as a continuation of his apology, and he didn’t want Whizzer to feel obligated to make anything up to him. It had been his overreaction that had caused all the issues in the first place. He gestured to the doorway. “It’s getting late and I have to get up early so I’m going to bed. I’m glad you’re back,” he said again, almost as an afterthought, trying to seem sincere but nonchalant, as if the thought of Whizzer leaving for good didn’t scare him out of his wits.

“Okay, goodnight,” Whizzer said quietly as Marvin backed out of the room. Marvin was sure he heard a faint “Sleep well,” as he turned, but he didn’t turn back. 

He felt bad shutting Whizzer out like he was doing, but it was so hard not to look at him at times and want something more with him, and he felt guilty just thinking about it. He was aloof and removed for the next week until his feelings had calmed down and he could keep a lid on them, and then the tension evaporated and he and Whizzer went back to how they’d been.

There was one change, however. Whizzer seemed to be touching him more often than usual, which was completely throwing Marvin off. If Whizzer walked by him, he’d brush his hand across Marvin’s shoulders. If he happened to need to reach around Marvin to get something, he’d put his hand on Marvin’s hip , if only briefly. When Marvin got home in the afternoon, he’d greet him with a pat on the arm. Maybe he’d always been so touchy and Marvin just hadn’t noticed. But Marvin was sure it was a recent change. He tried to convince himself it was nothing, that he felt nothing, but it was so hard to do.

*

With the help of the camera Marvin had gotten him, Whizzer eventually left the restaurant he was working at in favor of a staff photographer position at a local magazine. Marvin had never seen him so happy and excited, and he came home from assignments not tired, but energized. He would dance around Marvin and tell him about his day and Marvin would nod and hum, not necessarily understanding it all, but because it made Whizzer happy, it made him happy, too, and he liked to hear about it. Sometimes Whizzer would drag Marvin out to be his model, which Marvin hated because then he had to see himself when Whizzer developed the pictures, but he let Whizzer do it because it was Whizzer.

When Marvin’s birthday approached, Whizzer was more absent than usual, going out and staying out for hours or staying holed up in his room the majority of the time he _was_ home. Well… Marvin didn’t think it was related to his birthday—that just happened to be coming up and Whizzer was busier at work and he’d made a couple friends that he’d been going out to see (that did not make Marvin slightly jealous, it did _not_ )—but it was a change in the way they’d been living together and Marvin, who didn’t like change, was discomfited by it all.

The morning of his birthday, Marvin, who still had to go to work, woke up at his usual early hour and shuffled around, trying to wake up, trying to dress himself without putting his shirt on backwards, trying to make his hair look halfway presentable. He stumbled out to the kitchen and was greeted by Whizzer, who was lounging in a chair, his feet on the table, apparently wide awake because he was completely put together, as usual, and reading a book, despite the hour. Marvin hummed to say hello, too tired to put any effort into speaking properly, and went to get cereal. 

“Happy birthday!” Whizzer chirped, tossing his book aside and taking his feet off the table. He leaned over and smacked Marvin’s arm. “I have something for you but I figured you’d probably be too tired to appreciate right now so I’ll give it to you later, when you get home.”

Marvin huffed. “Yeah,” he managed to say as he sat down heavily at the table, cereal box under his arm, bowl and milk in hand. He offered Whizzer a bleary smile. “Thanks.”

“Your hair’s a mess.”

“Thank you, I know.”

Whizzer jumped up and left the room for a moment. When he came back, he was wielding a comb. “Let me help you.”

He went for Marvin’s hair but Marvin ducked out of the way. “I don’t need you to.”

“Yes, you do. You can’t go to work on your birthday looking like this.”

“So any other day is fine?”

“Correct. Birthdays are different.” He gripped Marvin’s shoulders. “Quit moving.”

Marvin, though a little uncomfortable letting Whizzer do this for him, gave up and ate breakfast while Whizzer combed his hair out. It was actually a really nice feeling—the drag of the comb across his scalp and the little tug Whizzer gave it when it hit a snag… 

“There. It looks much better.”

Marvin jolted back to the present and realized he hadn’t been eating and his cereal was soggy; Whizzer had started combing his hair and it felt nice and he just… paused. Embarrassed, he shooed Whizzer away and went to dump his cereal out. He’d just stop somewhere on the way to work and pick up a pastry or something.

“Thanks,” he said belatedly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. He went to grab his briefcase, wallet, and keys. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Yeah. And don’t forget I have a present for you!” Whizzer called down the hall as left.

The prospect of celebrating his birthday with Whizzer was the only thing that got him through the day because his day was _terrible_. His boss was in a bad mood, which put everyone in the office in a bad mood, and so Marvin got snapped at more than a couple times over the course of the day, so by the time he went home, he was angry and upset and ready to quit his job. 

Whizzer handed him a gift the moment he walked through the door, which made him feel significantly better, and it was only after a shower and a meal that he felt rather back to normal. The gift Whizzer had given him was a scrapbook, of sorts—a collection of photographs of Marvin Whizzer had taken over the last several months—and Marvin couldn’t stop smiling. Whizzer had taken far more photos of him than he’d been aware of; many of these were candid shots, and one was of Marvin napping on the couch. Beneath each picture, Whizzer had noted the date and time of each photo, along with a little description if it was necessary to explain the circumstances of the photo. Marvin thumbed through the pages, surprised at how gentle he looked in most of these pictures. He’d never thought he was very photogenic, and certainly not worthy to have more than one photo taken of him, but he was realizing, looking through these pictures, that maybe he’d just had bad photographers in the past. Whizzer seemed to be able to capture his best side in all these pictures.

Marvin thanked Whizzer profusely for the book, they had some ice cream Whizzer had gotten that afternoon, and put a record on the turntable while Marvin taught him how to play chess. Whizzer tried to pay attention, but he lost focus quickly and started making risky moves because he didn’t feel like devoting the time to thinking all possible moves through and strategizing. By the fourth game, Marvin quietly let him win, and he was ecstatic. He gave Whizzer a high-five, congratulating him, and then decided he needed to go to bed if he hoped to get up at his usual time the next morning. Whizzer gave him a quick, tight side hug, wished him happy birthday again, and scampered off to his room for the night as well. 

Marvin watched him go, marvelling at him. Whizzer’s natural, excitable personality had blossomed over the last ten months he’d been living there, and he was less skittish and hesitant around Marvin now. Marvin dreaded the day Whizzer would pull him aside to tell him he’d gotten an apartment of his own and move out. He didn’t want Whizzer to leave, but he knew it was coming eventually. He knew Whizzer couldn’t stay there forever. They couldn’t be roommates forever. He tried not to think about it. He tried to pretend it wouldn’t happen.

*

Fall came and went, and then winter began to descend upon them—bitterly cold and miserable—and it was a couple days after the one-year anniversary of Whizzer moving in when Marvin found a newspaper stuck in between the couch cushions, folded open to the classifieds, where the apartments for rent were listed. He felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach. He didn’t want Whizzer to leave. He didn’t know what he would do without him. He wondered if that made him seem clingy or possessive. He didn’t own Whizzer. Whizzer wasn’t his to command and order around, and Marvin would never want that. He wanted Whizzer to be his own person, free to go where he wanted and do what he wanted, but it was so hard to think about him moving away.

He wasn’t at all in a good mood trying to cook dinner that evening—feeling down and disappointed at the prospect of having to live in a lonely, empty apartment again—and trying to figure out how to make a broccoli cheese casserole was just too much effort. Marvin huffed and grumbled at the cookbook under his breath for about fifteen minutes before there was a knock on the kitchen doorframe and Whizzer poked his head in. “Can I help? What are you cooking?”

“I’m not exactly _cooking_. I’m _trying_ to cook.” Whizzer stepped up to him and he shoved the book into Whizzer’s hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What the hell does ‘lightly steamed’ mean? Either it’s steamed or it’s not.” 

Whizzer grinned. “I’ll help. Scoot.”

Marvin moved to the side and Whizzer joined him at the counter. Whizzer rescued the dish Marvin was making, and once it was in the oven, Whizzer held out the spoon he’d just been using to stir the melted cheese that Marvin couldn’t keep from burning, and Marvin sighed and licked it off. Whizzer took the spoon from him and tossed it in the sink. Marvin put away an extra bowl and when he turned back around, he was startled to find Whizzer hardly an inch away, looking down at him. 

“Hi…” Marvin said, a little confused. “Am I in the way? Do you need something?”

Whizzer shook his head. “Marvin… I want…” 

Whizzer leaned forward, eyes flicking from Marvin’s eyes to his lips and back. Marvin could feel Whizzer’s breath caressing his cheeks, and he pulled away, heart pounding wildly, putting Whizzer at arm’s length. 

“Whizzer…”

“What?” The corners of his lips drooped.

“I told you not—”

“No. Just stop it, Marvin. Stop it right there. Just—” He took a few gasping breaths, and then he was crying. “Just stop it, Marvin,” he choked, tears flooding down his cheeks. He backed away, hands clenched in fists at his side, then spun on his heel and fled the apartment. 

“Whizzer!” 

Marvin chased after him, but he was gone. Marvin had no idea what he’d done. He’d pushed Whizzer away again, not wanting to take advantage of him by letting his feelings get the better of him, and now he was terrified this was going to end like the last time Whizzer had run out—with him never coming back. Marvin had screwed it all up again. And he had no idea exactly how he’d managed to do that and whether Whizzer would just disappear again. He shut the oven off, leaving the uncooked casserole to sit in the oven, and paced around the kitchen, hands in his hair, wondering where he went wrong, what he’d done other than gently push Whizzer away. How had he ended up here—making Whizzer cry, being helpless as Whizzer ran off, wandering around his empty apartment, trying not to cry himself.

Beginning to feel nauseous at the prospect of once again losing Whizzer to the streets of New York City, and no idea whether he should go looking for him, and no idea where to start looking for him if he were to go out after him, and feeling very overwhelmed by his fears and his feelings, he did something he promised never to do—he went into Whizzer’s bedroom. He snatched one of his hoodies out of his closet and curled up on the couch, clutching the hoodie to his chest, pressing his face into it, and trying to convince himself that it would all turn out alright—that Whizzer would come home, that they would work it out, that they would continue as they had. 

Several hours later, he woke with a start. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he was still hugging Whizzer’s hoodie tightly. A crushing sense of dread overwhelmed him as remembered what had happened, and he sat up so quickly his head spun. The apartment was dark, lit only by the lamp in the corner Marvin had turned on earlier in the day.

“Whizzer?” he called out into the apartment, knowing he probably wasn’t there, but calling for him just the same.

“I’m here.”

Marvin whipped around. Whizzer was sitting in the armchair to his left. Whizzer stood, and Marvin scrambled off the couch, but Whizzer’s hand flashed out and kept him away, holding him at arm’s length.

“Do you want to kiss me?” he asked, eyes imploring.

“Whizzer…”

“Do you? And be honest. Yes or no. Do you want to kiss me?”

Marvin sighed, pained. “Yes, of course I do. But I don’t want—”

“I do. I want to kiss you. I keep trying and you keep pushing me away. Earlier, I _wanted_ to kiss you. I wasn’t doing it because I thought you expected it of me. I _wanted_ to. I _want_ to kiss you. Because _I_ want it. Not because I feel like I owe you something. Every time I try to do something for you, you wave me away and go on about ‘repayment.’ I _want_ to do things for you. You always talk about how we’re on equal footing, but I never feel like that’s true!”

“Whizzer—”

“Stop. Let me talk. I’m not done.” Marvin snapped his mouth shut and Whizzer continued, “Say whatever you want, but I do owe you a hell of a lot. You helped me when everyone else had brushed me off. You acted like I was a person. You saw past everything I was pretending to be and gave me what I needed to get my life back on track. And we’ve been living together for almost a year now and I have a job and I’m contributing and I’m not mooching off you anymore. And I have you to thank for that. And I am thankful. I’m so thankful and grateful for you and everything you’ve done for me. You’re the kindest, most selfless person I’ve ever met, and you’re funny and interesting and intelligent, and dammit, Marvin, if I’m not a little bit in love with you. And you never let me do anything about it! You constantly tiptoe around me as if at any moment I’m going to drop to my knees and open my mouth. I’m not trying to repay you in sexual favors. When I do something now, trust that it’s because I _want_ to, not because I feel I have to. And I want a lot of things with you, Marvin. But most of all, I just want to be your equal.”

Whizzer was breathing heavily when he finished speaking, and he had his hands and arms clutched protectively around himself. Marvin’s heart was hammering in his chest, a thousand emotions rushing through him simultaneously. 

“Whizzer, I— I— I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Whizzer sighed. “I know I said once I only took things from people I was willing to bend over for, and yes, I’ll admit I was thinking about that when I saw you and chose you the day we met at the restaurant. And I’ve thought about it since, but in an ‘I’d _really_ like him to fuck me’ kind of way, not an ‘I’d let him fuck me in exchange for something’ kind of way. There’s a difference, Marvin. Don’t infantilize me. I know what I want and I know when I’m not really into something—or someone—but go through with it anyway. That is not happening here. I am telling you I _want_ you. I don’t feel like I have to or should. It’s what I _want_.” He grabbed Marvin’s shoulders and squeezed him quickly before letting go and going to the window. “I don’t know how to make you understand.”

Marvin stood, stunned into silence, rooted to the floor, trying to process all that Whizzer had just said. Whizzer was right. All this time, he’d been expecting Whizzer to try to repay him with sex, even though it had been over a year since Whizzer had last propositioned him in that way. Whizzer had certainly put his hand on Marvin’s knee and left it there a little too long, or hugged him a little too tight, and looked at him the way he’d been looking at him earlier—with a hungry, wanting little glint in his eye—but never once had he ever tried offering Marvin sex outright, the way he had back when they’d first met, and then when they met again. 

Whizzer was right; Marvin had never quite let his initial perception of Whizzer go. Whizzer had changed so much since then, and he didn’t deserve for Marvin to box him in like he had been doing. And as for wanting to kiss him… Marvin had been wanting to kiss Whizzer for a very long time. He’d just pushed back for all the reasons Whizzer had just listed.

Marvin stepped up behind Whizzer and tentatively slid his arms around his waist and pressed his cheek to Whizzer’s back—the first non-platonic contact he’d ever allowed himself to have with Whizzer. 

“I am... so sorry. I thought if I ever crossed that line, I’d be taking advantage or using you or— or— I don’t know. I was trying to respect you and your boundaries but I…” He took a deep breath. “I guess I messed up.”

“I was in a weird place back then, where I always expected people to want sex from me in return for anything, and I appreciate you keeping your distance and allowing me to actually build personal boundaries for once in my life, even though I knew you liked me. Yes, Marvin,” he said when Marvin let out a little surprised noise, “you’ve been staring at me since day one. It’s always been obvious—” He laughed. “—but I never felt uncomfortable, knowing you found me attractive, because I saw you the same way. And I did wonder whether what I felt was clouded or influenced by what you’d done for me, and maybe it was at first. But it’s evolved so much since then, and for months now, I’ve been waiting for you to just kiss me already, and I’ve tried to start something with you more than once and you always push me away. And I— I feel like you think of me and treat me like a child who can’t make informed decisions on my own. I know the difference between who I want because I genuinely like them and who I want because I want something from them. You have to trust me. Please.”

Marvin tightened his arms around Whizzer and pushed up on the tips of his toes to hook his chin over his shoulder, eyes wet. 

“I didn’t know you felt like this. I never meant— I—” He huffed. “I… I really like you, Whizzer. And… I never meant to make you feel like you were less than me. I was just afraid to blur the lines. I meant to give you space. I didn’t want to make you feel like I was coming onto you and pushing you to do something you weren’t into.” Whizzer snorted and Marvin amended, “Ready for. And when you’d hug me or earlier, when you tried to kiss me... I was never trying to make you feel like you couldn’t make decisions for yourself.” Marvin sighed. “I’m sorry it felt like that. I thought I was doing what was best for us both.”

“I know.”

“Whizzer… I’d… I’d really like to kiss you.”

“So would I.”

Marvin flipped Whizzer around so they were face to face. Whizzer cradled Marvin’s face and thumbed at his cheeks for a moment before leaning down to kiss him, and Marvin had to grip the back of Whizzer’s shirt because his world suddenly tilted out of his favor and he was consumed by Whizzer.

Marvin was floating. Whizzer’s lips were warm and soft, and the way he tugged on Marvin’s lower lip made him weak at the knees—and thank god Whizzer was hugging him around the waist now instead of holding his face, because Marvin wasn’t sure if he could stand on his own two feet anymore.

Whizzer pulled away and left Marvin reeling.

“Oh my god,” Marvin said, trying to catch his breath. “Kiss me again.”

Whizzer laughed—that bright, happy laugh that Marvin loved so much—and did exactly as he was told.

*

Marvin woke in a tangle of blankets and Whizzer holding him close. The sunlight was streaming through the slats in the blinds and warming him, as though the cocoon of Whizzer’s arms wasn’t already cozy enough.

He rolled over, careful to stay beneath Whizzer’s arm, and put his arm over Whizzer’s waist, hugging him. His eyelids closed, heavy, and when he woke up next, Whizzer was shifting against him. When he noticed Marvin’s eyes blinking open to look at him, and then closed against the bright light of the morning, Whizzer touched his cheek.

“Good morning,” Whizzer murmured, voice tired and thick with sleep.

“G’morning,” Marvin breathed into Whizzer’s neck.

“God,” Whizzer mumbled. “You’re so sexy when you’re tired.”

Marvin tried to keep his eyes open to look at Whizzer, but it was just too difficult and he closed them again. “Mmm.”

“What say you we get up and make breakfast?” Whizzer asked, stretching one arm high above his head. 

“I’m hungry,” Marvin said, reaching a hand out blindly to find Whizzer’s. “I say yes.”

Whizzer sat up and pulled Marvin with him out of the bed.

“Hey, Marvin?”

“Yeah?”

“This whole thing—” He waved his hand in the air between the two of them. “It’s going really well so far,” Whizzer said. “Last night was…” He smiled at the memory. “...amazing… and we’ve pretty much been on the same page this whole time.”

“I think we have an advantage,” Marvin mused on the way to the bathroom. “We’ve been living together for a year.”

“I know all of your bad habits already, thank god. No surprises.”

“I think I can still surprise you with some things.”

“Like what?”

Marvin shrugged coyly and went to pee while Whizzer stood at the sink next to him and brushed his teeth. Sleeping together had erased all the undercurrents of awkwardness and tension that had been there previously, and it was as though the concept of personal space ceased to exist. They were all over each other. They threw on some clothes and Whizzer tried to make pancakes, though Marvin kept complaining his hands were cold and sticking them under Whizzer’s shirt, much to Whizzer’s fond annoyance.

Marvin couldn’t keep his hands off Whizzer, and it seemed like Whizzer couldn’t keep his hands off Marvin, either. They ended up falling asleep on the couch that afternoon, squished together, their arms and legs tangled, completely uncomfortable and yet, at the same time, more comfortable than they’d ever been.

They grew more and more enamored with each other as the weeks and months passed, and every night they slept next to each other and every morning they woke up together strengthened their bond, and all who knew them began to wonder whether it was possible for two people to be so in tune that they became one.

*

About a year after they got together, Marvin got a new job and they moved across the city to a new apartment. The day they moved in was mostly spent unpacking and arranging, but that evening, as soon as the bed was set up and made, they locked eyes across it and couldn’t get undressed fast enough.

The next morning, Marvin woke to Whizzer prodding his side with his finger.

“Marvin? Marvin?” 

Marvin yawned and stretched and curled into Whizzer’s size, gripping Whizzer’s t-shirt as he did. “Yeah?”

Whizzer poked him. “Wake up. I have something I wanna say to you.”

“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

“I was going to say this last night, but decided to wait until we were both a little more clear-headed.”

Marvin yawned again and blinked at Whizzer. “Clear-headed,” he mumbled, trying to stay awake. “You don’t say.”

Whizzer kissed him. “Wake up, you oaf.”

“If you do that again, I might consider waking up.”

Whizzer sighed. “I can’t believe I have to bribe you with kisses to make you get up.”

Marvin rolled onto his back, eyes closed, lips puckered. He heard another sigh and then Whizzer’s lips were on his, breathing energy into him.

Whizzer was leaning over him when he finally opened his eyes. He smiled dopily up at him and said, “Good morning,” as cheerfully as he could muster.

Whizzer grinned wickedly and leaned down and bit his shoulder.

“Ow!”

Whizzer laughed, kissed his shoulder to make up for it, then sat up against the pillows and the headboard. “That woke you up.”

“Some wakeup,” Marvin grumbled, but he scooted up next to Whizzer and kissed his jaw.

“I got you something.”

Marvin was working his way down Whizzer’s neck, kissing and nibbling as he went. “Mmm, did you?”

“Marvin… Pay attention to me.”

“I always pay attention to you.” He kissed the mark he’d just sucked into Whizzer’s neck and patted Whizzer’s hip before looking up. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“I got you something. Close your eyes.”

Marvin closed his eyes and held his hands out, cupped. He felt the soft press of Whizzer’s lips in his palm, and he curled his hand around Whizzer’s face, grinning.

“Don’t open your eyes yet.”

Whizzer ran the pads of his fingers around Marvin’s palm until Marvin couldn’t take the tingling, tickling sensation and squeezed his hand.

“Enough teasing. Whatever you’re going to put in my hand, you’d better do it soon. I didn’t wake up for you just to tease me.”

Whizzer laughed quietly. “Hold your hands out.”

“Are you actually going to put something in them this time?”

“Yes. Don’t open your eyes.”

“I won’t.”

There was a rustle as Whizzer moved around on the bed and then something hard and cool was being placed in his hand. He curled his hand around it, feeling it, and it felt incredibly familiar…

“Is this my wedding ring?”

Whizzer touched the underside of his chin gently. “Open your eyes.”

Marvin opened his eyes and… a silver ring was resting in his palm.

“Not your wedding ring, no,” Whizzer said. “And it won’t ever be a wedding ring. I can’t ask you to marry me, so I’m asking you to spend the rest of your life with me, if you’ll have me.”

Marvin couldn’t speak. His heart was overflowing with love, but tears began flooding down his cheeks, and he kept his hand closed tight around the ring as he pressed his face into Whizzer’s chest and cried. 

“Marvin… I love you,” Whizzer said, placing a warm, steady hand on his back, “and there’s no one else I’d rather be with forever. This is my promise to you—to love you and care for you and be there for you—and I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Marvin looked up at Whizzer and smiled, his tears slowing and beginning to dry on his face. “After everything you just said, I don’t… Years ago, you asked if wearing my wedding ring made me feel like I belonged to somebody, and god, Whizzer, I want to belong to you. More than anything.” He pressed the ring into Whizzer’s hand and held his left hand out. Whizzer took Marvin’s hand in his and gently slid the ring on. It fit perfectly. 

“Where’s…” Marvin trailed off, captivated by the little silver band on his finger. “Where’s yours?” he finally asked, looking up at Whizzer, whose eyes were wet.

Whizzer reached into the bedside table behind him and produced another, matching, silver ring.

“Let me put it on you,” Marvin murmured, and took it from him. 

Whizzer’s hand was trembling when Marvin touched him. He held Whizzer’s hand for a moment. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to. This feels like…” He laughed suddenly. “This feels like we’re getting married—in our own little way—and I want to say something.”

Whizzer let out a little laugh that might have been a sob. Marvin squeezed his hand.

“I… I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re everything to me. You challenged me to be a better person every time we met, and you still do, just now it’s all the time.” Whizzer laughed and wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand. “You’re my best friend. And… I love you so much. This is me returning your promise. I promise… everything. And I… I’m promising you the best of me, always.”

Marvin slid the ring onto Whizzer’s finger and Whizzer glowed. He looked at it for a moment before throwing his arms around Marvin’s neck. They fell flat onto the bed, laughing, and Whizzer was squeezing the life out of him and kissing his temple, and Marvin was squeezing him back just as tightly.

They were wonderful together, and as Marvin fell asleep that night, cocooned in Whizzer’s arms, warm and cozy and happier than he’d ever been in his life, he was so thankful Whizzer had picked him out of a crowd that day, and that he had chosen to give Whizzer a chance—give Whizzer a chance to turn his life around. And thank god he had, because Marvin got to be with him every step of the way. He was so proud. And so in love.

**Author's Note:**

> An anon sent me this request on Tumblr; feel free to send in your own!  
> @maybeeatspaghetti  
> maybeeatspaghetti.tumblr.com


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